


Flower

by silentdescant



Series: Babygirl [4]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Crossdressing, Genderfluid Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 17:29:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8632195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: Scott walks into Mitch’s dressing room to find him still in his underwear, almost naked but for his briefs and the knee-high boots he’s lacing up.





	

Scott walks into Mitch’s dressing room to find him still in his underwear, almost naked but for his briefs and the knee-high boots he’s lacing up. They’re black and studded and have a spray of brightly colored flowers across the front, and Scott has never seen Mitch wear them before, but they look… pretty. Feminine, in a stompy, kick-ass sort of way.

But Mitch is lacing up his boots without pants on, and they have a show in, oh, really not long. Scott checks his non-existent watch and says, “You should’ve been dressed ten minutes ago.”

“I just have to throw that on,” Mitch replies distractedly, tugging at the shoestrings so the boot is cinched up evenly across his shin.

“Throw what on?”

Finally, Mitch ties a sloppy bow and lets the loose ends and loops hang. He grabs a black shirt from over the back of a chair and quickly yanks it over his head. It’s stretchy and form-fitting, with artful slits and cut-outs down the sleeves that show off his colorful tattoos underneath.

It’s not a shirt, though. It’s a dress, and it’s clear now that Mitch isn’t intending on wearing pants with it. Scott gapes at him. It’s one thing when Mitch does this at home, privately, but it’s another to invite thousands of eyes and thousands of opinions.

Scott eventually finds his voice and asks, “Are you sure?”

Mitch brushes his hands down the front of the dress, arranging the swingy skirt so it sits smoothly. It hangs down almost to his knees, so he’s not actually showing a lot of skin, but the mere fact that it’s a _dress_ makes it seem so revealing. Mitch meets Scott’s eyes and holds his gaze for a moment, then his lips twist into familiar grin and he says, “These boots are McQueen, sweetie, I gotta show ‘em off for the kids.”

His mind is made up. Scott dips his head in a quick nod. “You ready?” He wants to ask if Mitch is nervous, but he doesn’t. That would only make Mitch more nervous. He holds his hand out instead and Mitch takes it.

All too soon, they’re taking their places on stage for the start of the show. Scott is jittery with nerves, and he can only imagine how Mitch must feel—except Mitch seems perfectly calm, which is ever-so-slightly odd. Scott expects him to be jumpy and tense, but he’s not. He’s grinning, in fact, at something Kevin said, something innocent and unrelated to the fact that Mitch is wearing a dress on stage.

Actually, no one has commented on Mitch’s outfit. No one seems perturbed, no one seems to care. Scott suddenly feels like he’s been dropped into an alternate universe, because tonight is different for Mitch and Scott is apparently the only one who’s noticed.

But now it’s show time and Scott has to push his nervousness down and perform. He glances to his left, where Mitch is fiddling with his in-ears. “You look pretty tonight,” he says.

Mitch turns to him, beaming. “Thanks, daddy.”

The countdown begins, the click track starts, the lights kick on, and Scott throws himself into the distraction of the show. He can’t think about anyone judging Mitch’s clothes right now. He has choreography to hit and blocking to land. He loses himself in the first few songs.

Scott hits his stride about a third of the way through the set, finally feeling comfortable in front of the crowd when some part of his brain recognizes that nothing bad is going to happen. He lets himself look over at Mitch, at his knobby knees peeking between the top of the boots and the bottom of the dress. It’s not a strange sight, really. Mitch looks as natural in this outfit as he does in every outfit he wears onstage.

What’s different is the way the skirt shifts and flutters around Mitch’s thighs as he moves. He bounces and jumps a lot during the upbeat songs, and with each bounce Scott glimpses a little flash of thigh. Scott has to force himself to look away and focus.

They don’t talk during Kevin’s solo, when they sit backstage and gulp down some water and catch their breath. Scott dabs sweat off his forehead and stares at the skirt dipping down between Mitch’s spread legs. Scott wants to touch him. He wants to slide his hand beneath the dress, hike it up just a few inches so he can see Mitch’s thighs out in the open. So anyone can see Mitch’s thighs. It’s a strange realization, the sudden desire to show Mitch off. He thinks it must be because of the non-reaction Mitch’s outfit has gotten from their crew so far.

This urge extends when they’re out in front of the fans, though. Scott finds himself gesturing to Mitch, a non-verbal _look, please look at how beautiful he is_. They already know. Everyone knows.

As soon as the show ends, Scott grabs Mitch’s hand and swings him around, pulling him into an adrenaline-fueled dance. He twirls Mitch, sighing as Mitch’s skirt flares out, licking his lips as Mitch’s thick-soled boots hit the floor with his loud steps.

“You look so good tonight, babygirl,” he says. The pet name just slips out, and he blushes fiercely when he realizes they’re still surrounded by their friends and bandmates and crew.

“Kinda thought you didn’t like it,” Mitch says. He steps into Scott’s arms and they sway together for a moment, still moving, still dancing, because they’re too caught up in the energy of performing to stop.

“No, I did—I do. I really, really do.” Scott kisses Mitch’s cheek, up close to his ear. “I was just nervous for you, babygirl. You’re mine and I want to protect you, always.”

He feels Mitch suck in a deep, heavy breath and he pulls back. Mitch is brimming with light, his eyes shining and his cheeks flushed, and Scott can feel love radiating from him. He basks in the warmth of Mitch’s stare and spins them around one more time, laughing under his breath.

They go back to Mitch’s dressing room and barely mange to get the door closed before colliding in a desperate kiss. Scott slides his hands down Mitch’s back, under his ass, and hoists him up onto the counter, pushing aside water bottles and Mitch’s phone charger and makeup bag and whatever else he had cluttering up the space. Mitch wraps his legs around Scott’s waist, locks his ankles together, and Scott can’t help but stroke his palms down Mitch’s calves.

The leather boots are warm from Mitch’s body heat, and they follow the curve of his muscles perfectly, laced and buckled tight to his skin. Scott rubs his thumb over the brightly colored flowers imprinted on the leather. “So fuckin’ sexy tonight, baby,” he murmurs. “Showing off your boots and your legs…”

“And my dress,” Mitch finishes.

“And your dress, but mostly your legs,” Scott says. He moves his hands up to Mitch’s thighs, hiking up the dress so he can slide his palms against bare skin. Mitch hasn’t shaved in long enough that his leg hair is soft rather than prickly, and Scott likes the texture. He squeezes Mitch’s thighs in his hands, digging in with his thumbs until Mitch gasps.

Mitch reaches down and pushes his underwear off his hips; Scott helps him lift up enough to get them over his ass and steps back so he can take them all the way off, and he sees that Mitch is hard, his cock tenting the front of the dress, but Scott’s never sure whether or not Mitch wants him to notice. He steps close in between Mitch’s legs again and kisses him.

“I wanna fuck you now,” he whispers, and Mitch nods eagerly. Scott reaches past him to Mitch’s bag, which he knows contains condoms and lube somewhere amongst the more mundane toiletries. He finds what he needs and shoves the condom into Mitch’s hand for safekeeping.

“I’m aching,” Mitch moans, leaning his head back against the mirror. “Touch me, please, touch me, I need your hand, daddy, please…”

“Yeah, baby, you want my hand on you?” Scott asks. He notices that Mitch doesn’t touch himself, and he’s not totally sure how Mitch wants Scott to touch him. Scott wants to give him what he’s asking for, but he absolutely does not want to ruin whatever headspace Mitch is in. He says, “Tell me, babygirl. Be good for me and beg for it.”

“I’m so hard, daddy, please, I need you, I want you touching me, I want your hand on my fucking cock, daddy, please, please touch me, daddy, I want to come, please—”

Scott wraps his hand around Mitch’s cock and strokes him firmly, and Mitch’s entire body goes taut and tense as he arches back so his shoulders touch the mirror. He stays like that, squeezing his thighs around Scott’s hips, while Scott jerks him off, and Scott leans in to kiss him when he can feel Mitch getting close. Scott swallows the soft, desperate noises and catches Mitch’s come in his palm to keep from staining the dress. He smears it down the shaft of his cock, lets it drip into the neatly groomed hair curling around the base. He can’t see it, but he can feel how sticky and messy Mitch is, and he groans into Mitch’s pliant mouth.

“Gimme the condom,” he says, and Mitch’s hand comes up, weakly holding a crumpled packet.

“This is a fucking face mask,” Mitch says. The packet is definitely too big to be a condom, and it has Japanese writing all over it.

“Shit, sorry—”

“Find an actual fucking condom and fuck me, please.”

“Yeah…” Scott leans over Mitch and digs through the bag again, this time actually looking at what he pulls out. Within moments, he’s rolling the condom onto his length and rubbing lube around Mitch’s ass.

He holds onto Mitch’s calves again as he begins thrusting. His nails scratch and slide against the slick boots. He loves them, loves how heavy Mitch’s feet are with his legs around Scott’s waist, loves the pretty flowers set against the black leather and silver studs.

Mitch wraps his arms around Scott’s neck and pulls him down. He kisses Scott languidly, sated by his orgasm, but Scott can’t slow his pace to match. His adrenaline is pumping, and he quickly takes control, pushing his tongue between Mitch’s parted lips. He kisses Mitch until he can’t breathe anymore, and when he pulls back, Mitch is breathless too, his face slack even as his chest heaves.

“So beautiful,” Scott murmurs. The word doesn’t encompass enough of what Mitch actually is, but Scott can’t begin to focus his mind on vocabulary right now. He’s so close to orgasm he can practically taste it, and he leans in to nibble Mitch’s glistening lower lip, delighting in the tension that arcs across Mitch’s forehead, the way his brows draw together and his eyelashes flutter. Scott comes almost immediately after, gripping Mitch’s legs hard in an effort to stay upright.

Mitch clings to his neck too, and his ankles are still crossed behind Scott’s back, keeping them locked together for a long moment. Scott’s overcome by the urge to talk, and he knows he’s babbling, but Mitch is staring up at him so beatifically that Scott needs to fill the silence and tell Mitch everything that’s on his mind.

“I was so nervous when I saw you in this dress,” he says. “I didn’t know how people would react, and I just want everyone to love you, babygirl, I want everyone to see you like I do, and I want everyone to love you like I do, because you’re beautiful, you were fucking stunning out there, and I’m so proud of you for owning your look, and for being so confident and fucking perfect, baby, I couldn’t take my eyes off you, I just—”

“I love you,” Mitch interrupts quietly. “You know you’re why I’m not scared. I’m sorry I made you nervous tonight.”

“It’s okay. Your confidence rubbed off on me,” Scott replies with a smile. “And honestly? As much as I want everyone to see you like I do, I’m glad I’m the only one who gets to see you like this. You’re mine.”

“Of course I am. Always.”

 

_fin_


End file.
